


Sense of Place

by opalmatrix



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: Comfort, Community: Saiyuki_time, Established Relationship, Homesickness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-06
Updated: 2010-03-06
Packaged: 2017-10-07 18:53:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/68133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opalmatrix/pseuds/opalmatrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first weeks on the road were the hardest for Hakkai.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sense of Place

**Author's Note:**

> Written for **[saiyuki_time](http://community.livejournal.com/saiyuki_time/)** challenge #31: Homesickness. Time allowed: 20 minutes. Time taken: 30 min. (Written October 2008)

Was it at the market that afternoon, in the dusty little town that had been a dot on the map just that morning and now was a reeking, noisy, over-priced reality?

Was it when the innkeeper's eyes, sharp and narrow and bored, had lingered too long on the cuffs on his left ear?

Was it when he saw his room, scrubbed and bare and smelling of disinfectant, with the single narrow, hard bed like that of an orphanage dormitory, and somehow lonelier - with its tiny, battered dresser, three-legged bedside table, hard chair, and small, scratched square of mirror beside the door - that real emptiness could ever be?

When had the realization hit?

Five weeks into a journey that might last years, and all he could think about was Gojyo's tiny house. It had been nothing but a hovel, really, in those first days when he had opened his eyes and seen, through the dim red miasma of his pain and painful memories, the cracked plaster of the room's ceiling, the girly magazines and beer cans and dirty clothing scattered about, the smeared windows. But as he had recovered, he had begun to impose some order on the place. Its small size had helped a great deal: there was only so much to keep clean. And when he had returned from the Temple and settled down to cleaning and arranging in earnest, a tidy, calm refuge from the world had begun to emerge from the chaos. And then again, after the Banri incident, when the little house had finally become home, he'd embraced it, made it pretty, even - a warm and welcoming place.

There had been the dishes from the second-hand shop, missing one or two pieces, but more than enough for the two of them, or even for four when Sanzo and Goku came down. The deep-blue teapot Gojyo had proudly brought home a couple of days after Hakkai had admired it in the shop window. His cannisters of rice, flour, and sugar, neatly lined up on the shelves that Gojyo had painted under his direction: everything in its place. Clean curtains at the shining windows, through which the sun poured onto a cleared and swept floor. The battered, carefully mended kitchen table, sanded and scrubbed and regularly set for two, precisely and perfectly and with flowers in a crimson vase. And at that thought, staring at the crowded table indifferently set with mismatched, chipped dishes filled with mediocre food, in the midst of a crowded, noisy common room with a floor dusty and scuffed with many feet, Hakkai had finally had enough.

"I'm not hungry. I'm going to bed. Please continue without me."

He ignored Goku's shocked look, Sanzo's frown, Gojyo's raised eyebrow, and retreated as fast as he could.

Not that the cold little bedroom felt like any sort of refuge. He undressed slowly, changed into his pajamas. He didn't want sleep any more than he had wanted food. He sat on the hard bed and stared at nothing, cold and empty and blank, until there was a knock at the door.

It was Gojyo standing outside when he opened the door. The familiar scent of cigarettes and sweat and musk drifted into the room. Hakkai blinked and breathed deeply, and grabbed his friend by the arm, pulled him into that barren space, and marvelled how the red hair, the rakish clothing he'd washed so many times himself, and the simple _presence_ of his friend suddenly made the place seem real and solid and warm.

Gojyo stared at him for a moment, hard, and then smiled and shut the door behind him. "I kinda thought you might want some company."

Hakkai wrapped his arms around him and buried his face in the lank crimson hair that flowed over one hard shoulder. It smelled of rosemary shampoo, Gojyo - and home.

 


End file.
